


Dream A Little

by Zimbrii



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hate to Love, Insomnia, Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2020-09-26 21:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimbrii/pseuds/Zimbrii
Summary: You just can't sleep. You keep telling yourself it's the stress of work, but deep down you know it's your unrequited crush on Bucky. He tries to avoid you like the plague, until a very late night run-in changes everything between the two of you.





	1. Chapter 1

The bright red numbers on the bedside clock mocked you, the blocky 3:00AM too bright in the darkness of your bedroom. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw yourself onto your back. This was the latest night of insomnia in a long line of many, and the lack of sleep was taking its toll. You were dozing off in meetings, dark circles rimmed your eyes, a constant headache thrummed at the back of your head, and you had a snarky attitude with everyone in the tower. With a groan of frustration, you pulled the blanket away and slid yourself off the bed; if you weren’t going to get any sleep you sure as hell weren’t going to spend the entire night staring at the ceiling. You toed your feet into your slippers and pulled an oversized hoodie over the t-shirt and shorts you had gone to bed in, and made your way to the door. The door clicked shut behind you and you turned down the hallway towards the communal kitchen; if you couldn’t sleep, you’d snack.

On the short walk from your room, you considered your predicament. You hadn’t gotten a good eight-hours in weeks, getting most of your rest from naps stolen throughout the day. Stress was probably the culprit; you were working yourself to death, going on mission after mission, jetting across the world at a moment’s notice, was becoming a huge strain on your body. And living in the tower meant you spent all of your time around work and your team. Not that you had a problem living with your friends, most of the time everything was perfect, but living in such close quarters was causing you some issues, and that issue’s name was James Buchanan Barnes. Just the thought of his name had your heartbeat jacking up, making you roll your eyes at yourself. 

When you moved in and met everyone, you had immediately been drawn to Bucky, his dark broodiness and bristly attitude completely melting you. You could remember him clearly that day; his dark hair had been pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, the two or three day old stubble on his jaw made you want to rub your cheek on his just to feel the burn. He had been wearing a loose black t-shirt and black sweats, the dark colors making him seem even more prickly. You introduced yourself and held out your hand to him, but he had just looked at it for a beat, then turned to walk away with a quiet, “Nice t’meet you.” You just stared after him as Steve made apologies for his friend, and it was at that moment you knew you were screwed.

Ever since then, you had been nursing a gargantuan crush on him. You knew it was just a crush you had to let run its course, but it was impossible to let it die while constantly being in his space. Bucky was there when you had breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He was there when everyone had game night. He was there when you were training in the gym, when you were lounging in the common areas, or watching a movie in the little home theater Tony had built. It was completely impossible to get one moment where Bucky wasn’t clouding your senses, lingering at the back of your mind. 

It didn’t help that he had zero interest in you. In fact, he kind of seem repulsed by you. When you were paired to train with him, you had overheard Bucky arguing with Steve to let him train with someone else, anyone else, but ultimately he was stuck with you. Rather than get your feelings hurt, you channeled your irritation into several well-placed kicks and managed to beat the hell out of Bucky for four out of five rounds. It pleased you to no end to watch him try to catch his breath when you were finished, holding his bruised side as he walked away from you without so much as a “good game”. And yet, your heart still fluttered annoyingly whenever he walked into a room.

When you reached the common area, you grabbed a bag of pretzels and settled on the couch. You left the lights off and turned the large flatscreen on the wall on. There was never anything good on TV at three in the morning, so you settled on a hilariously bad infomercial for a fancy blender. You nestled into the pillows, laying on your side and pulling a soft blanket up to your chin. The low sound of the infomercial was making your eyes droop, and you were so hoping it would lull you to sleep.

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of someone padding into the room. The couch was facing away from the entrance, so whoever had come in couldn’t see you in your nest. They rummaged around for a bit, looking for a late-night snack you assumed. You hoped they would get on with it and leave soon, sleep was so close you could feel it, and this blender was the key. The footsteps started up again, this time on their way out. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn the TV off. Hate when folks leave those on.” a low voice carried through the darkness. 

“Please don’t F.R.I.D.A.Y., I need to hear more about this blender.” you countered. Sitting up, you peered over the back of the couch and your heart dropped. This is the last thing you needed right now. Bucky was standing in the doorway, a plum in his hand, wearing only his infuriatingly adorable bedhead and a pair of gym shorts.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was awake.” he rubbed the back of his head with his right hand, obviously a little embarrassed at his state of undress. “What are you doing up anyway?” Much to your chagrin, he was making his was over to the couch, leaning over the back of it and waiting on your answer. He took a bite of his plum, full lips wrapping around the fruit as he sunk his teeth into its flesh. Juice ran down his chin, and you couldn’t help but stare as his tongue swiped at his bottom lip to catch the moisture. He smirked at your intense studying, breaking your trance. You shook your head, trying to dislodge the image and get your bearings.

“If you must know, I can’t sleep, haven’t been able to for awhile now. Figured I’d just watch bad TV until I could drift off.” you trained your focus on the salesman listing the finer details of the blender. Huh, it was portable and rechargable.

“Think you’ll find answers at the bottom of a blender, doll?” he huffed a laugh at his own dumb joke, but you were entirely too thrown off by the pet name he had used. You stared at him, completely confused at his sudden change in demeanor. Why was he being so friendly to you after months of the cold shoulder? You squinted your eyes suspiciously.

“Why are you being so buddy-buddy with me all of a sudden?” the question just slipped out. You hadn’t intended it to be so straight-forward, but lack of sleep had broken your filter. Bucky widened his eyes and looked a little offended. You turned back to the TV and continued, “I mean, you always seem like you can’t get away from me fast enough, and now you want to crack blender jokes with me. I’m just confused. Or maybe I’m dreaming.” you were rambling now. 

“Do you dream of me often?” and of course Bucky would latch onto that part. 

“Entirely too much if I’m being honest.” You were so tired you might as well have been drunk. If you weren’t careful, too much truth would come tumbling out and you’d make a gigantic fool of yourself. You stole a glance of Bucky and were surprised to see color rising in his cheeks, he was actually blushing. “It’s only because I have a huge crush on you, and I think about you a lot, but you seem to hate me. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure you’re the reason I can’t sleep. So, thanks for that.” you slapped a hand over your mouth as soon as the words left it, giggling like a madwoman. That was it, you had to die of embarrassment now.

Bucky was completely taken aback at your words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, grappling for his words. The sight made you giggle a little, which just made Bucky flounder more. He closed his mouth and blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly to regain his senses. He straightened up from the back of the couch, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly as he seemed to debate on what to say next. You could feel the warmth in your chest as you watched his brow furrow and lips purse, his fingers rolling the plum over and over as if he’d find the words he was looking for written somewhere on the skin. Finally, he abruptly turned tail to leave the room, pausing in the doorway to look at you over his shoulder.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, so quiet you had to strain to hear, “I don’t hate you at all.” Then he was gone. You popped the last pretzel in your mouth, and settled back into the couch. Some part of you knew you should be unsettled by the whole exchange, but the sleepier part of you decided to save that thought for later. As soon as the salesman started talking about the five easy payments, you were sucked into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

God this was getting tiresome. Literally. The clock read 3:30AM and you were tossing and turning, begging for unconsciousness. Your mind was racing with the playback of last night’s conversation with Bucky. At first you thought it was a dream, but you couldn’t deny reality in the cold light of day. You had completely revealed your crush to Bucky, making a total fool of yourself. You were so embarrassed you had skipped group meals today, choosing to eat snacks in your room instead. There was no way you could face him right now.

But what did he mean he didn’t hate you? If that were true, why had he been keeping you at arm’s length all this time? Was he just indifferent? Somehow that was worse. You sat up with a grunt, bringing your fists down on the mattress. You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, pushing back against the ache in your head. The warm wetness of tears on your skin made you even angrier. Crying, really? You were just so, so tired, you wanted to sleep more than anything. Well, almost more than anything.

A soft knock at your door brought you back to reality. You looked up wearily; was that real, or a hallucination? Another knock had you pulling yourself to your feet, swaying a bit before getting your bearings. You padded barefoot to the door, opening it without bothering with the peephole. Blinking at the light in the hallway, your eyes adjusted to see Bucky standing there with his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He was wearing a shirt this time, a navy blue t-shirt with a pocket on the left breast. What were those tiny pockets for? You can’t fit anything in those tiny pockets, you thought hazily. Your eyes traveled downward to his black shorts and bare feet.

“What’re you doing here, Bucky?” it came out so monotone, and a little snappy.

He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. His hair was down and a little damp, like he had taken a shower not too long ago. “I wanted to talk to you, and I figured you’d be awake. I didn’t wake you up did I?” You responded with a dry laugh.

“Unfortunately no, but please, come in.” you stepped back to allow him entry into your apartment. He stepped over the threshold delicately, like he might set something off. You closed the door and walked back into the living area, sitting heavily on the couch and motioning for Bucky to come sit next to you. You turned so your back was settled against the arm of the couch and you sat cross-legged opposite Bucky. He kept his hands on his knees, chewing his lip like he was nervous, eyes darting around the room, everywhere but on you.

“What’s on your mind, Buck?” you sighed, trying to spur this conversation along. You were pretty sure this was going to be a gentle letdown, that he was going to tell you that he was flattered but not interested. You’d heard this dialogue many times before, so your mind went into defense mode, trying to put out an air of indifference to soften the blow.

The sound of your voice breaking the silence finally brought his eyes to you. You could see concern swimming in the clear blue, and something else. Was that fear? Anxiety? 

“I-I just wanted to tell you that, you know, that I-” he couldn’t seem to be able to string the words together. You’d help him out, you knew the lines well-enough.

“That you appreciate my sentiment but you’re not into it, so you hope we can still be friends. Only that’s not right, we weren’t friends before. So you hope we can still be, what, tower-mates? People who nod at each other in the hallway? Whatever we were before.” eloquence was not a skill you had when you were fully-rested, much less now.

“What? No, that’s not what I was going to say.” he seemed a little emboldened by your wrong assumptions. “I was going to apologize for the way I’ve been treating you. I never meant to make you think I hate you.” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, eyes cast down to his feet. “Honestly, I was afraid.” 

“Afraid of what, Bucky?” you rubbed at your temples, accepting that this was a dream, but you wanted to see it play out.

“I haven’t been with anyone since before the war, I’ve been focused on getting better, making amends with my past. But then you walked in the door, and you took my breath away. When you held your hand out to me on that first day, I knew if I took it I wouldn’t have been able to let go. My heart was beating so fast, my ears were ringin’, couldn’t see straight. I had to get out of there, the feeling was comin’ on so strong. I figured it was a fluke, just meeting a pretty girl is all. But every time I saw you, it came back. I didn’t know what was happenin’ to me, so I tried to avoid you, hoping it would stop.” his words were coming out in a rush, his Brooklyn accent coming on thicker. He finally looked up at you, turning his body towards you as he continued, “When I saw you last night, and you told me you thought I hated you, it felt like a punch to the gut. Because I don’t hate you, not one bit. I’m thinkin’ I actually like you, a lot.” 

Once he was finished, he met your eyes. You took a long look at him, took in the hopefulness in his eyes, the way he was biting at his bottom lip, waiting for your response. The silence stretched miles between the two of you, the dimness from your bedside lamp giving everything a dream-like filter.

“I wish this were real.” you whispered, reaching your left hand out to run your fingers along Bucky’s jaw. He leaned into the touch, letting his eyes close as he took in the warmth of your fingers. The stubble scratched at your skin as you cupped his cheek. You ran the pad of your thumb along his bottom lip where it was reddened from the worrying he had done with his teeth. Your right hand settled on the cool metal of his wrist. Slowly, you ran your hand up the plates of his arm, feeling each one whir under your touch. You ghosted over his shoulder, pausing to feel the scarred skin there. He sighed when you reached his neck, curling your fingers into his dark hair. “But this is the best dream I’ve had in a long time, so I’m gonna run with it.” You pulled him towards you, moving onto your knees to meet him halfway. Closing your eyes, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss. He felt so incredibly real; you could feel the dampness of his hair against your palm, smell his shampoo, taste the mintiness of his toothpaste. His lips were full and just a little dry, his nose bumped yours when you moved to deepen the kiss, the feeling when he reached out to you and put one warm hand on your cheek and a cool one on your thigh, all felt so intensely real.

Bucky groaned when you licked at the seam of his mouth, requesting entry. He gladly let you in, reveling in the taste of you on his tongue. His metal hand gripped your thigh tighter as you invaded his senses. You were all around him, your taste, your smell, your hands on him. It was too much. He felt himself being pulled under, his vision darkening at the edges as the walls closed in on him. 

You whined a little when he pulled away from you, already missing the feeling of him against you. 

“I’ve gotta get out of here, I’m sorry” Bucky pushed himself up from the couch, stumbling as he rushed to the front door. He looked back, face red and eyes wet, “I’m so sorry.” The door closed behind him and you were alone again.

You stared at the door, dazed. “What a weird dream.” You curled into the pillows on your sofa, pulling the quilt you kept on the back over yourself. Tracing your fingers over your lips, still able to feel Bucky’s mouth against yours, you fell into the darkness with a small smile on your face.

-

Bucky stumbled into his apartment, taking deep breaths and trying to slow his heart rate. He closed the door and leaned heavily against it, focusing on the chilled wood, feeling the grain of it underneath his flesh hand to ground himself.

When his breathing came easier, he fell into his bed face first. He thought he could do this, he let himself think he could have this one thing, that he had earned a little bit of peace. You were right there in his hands, kissing and touching him so softly. He could still feel your skin against his palms, his lips still felt the ghost of yours moving against them. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

Bucky huffed in frustration, not used to these feelings swirling around in his head, keeping him from sleep. He clenched his fists and curled around his pillow; this was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still just pouring out of me. Send help.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally got some rest. After an amazing, totally life-like dream, you feel more refreshed than you have in months. But nothing lasts forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think many people were looking for this update, but here it is. I know, I'm a scumbag who left her fic on hold for almost an entire year, but my life has finally stabilized and I am determined to write more and get this work back on track. Feedback is a huge motivator, comments are SO appreciated, they really give me life. I know it's short, but I hope you like the latest installment!

You awoke the morning after surprisingly rested. The pounding in your head was gone, and you felt a lightness you didn’t realized you missed. You rolled onto your back and stretched your arms and legs, reveling in the sweet pulling of muscle and popping of your joints. The clock read just after breakfast, if you hurried you may be able to catch a bite with the team. You quickly pulled on a t-shirt and shorts and made your way to the kitchen. 

Strolling in, you were greeted by Nat and Steve sharing a table and sipping at coffee. They looked up with friendly faces as you settled into a chair with your granola bar. The two of them shared a look.

“Heard you’ve not been sleeping too good, sweetheart.” Steve asked you innocently enough, but you could tell he was prodding you for information.

“Mm, yea, past few weeks have been rough. But I actually slept amazingly last night, I’m hopin’ I’ll be back to a regular schedule soon.” you replied as politely as you could with your mouth full.

“Probably not if Barnes has anything to say about it.” Nat spoke quietly into her mug as she took a swig of coffee. Steve looked at her disapprovingly as he waved his hand in front of his throat, telling her to cut it out.

You choked on your bite of granola, coughing and spluttering while Steve patted you on the back. “What?!” you finally managed to squeak out, taking deep breaths of air. “What the hell does that mean?”

Steve had the decency to look uncomfortable as he shifted in his chair. You looked to him, confusion wild on your face. “Steve?” 

“Well, Buck and I were up late last night, and he seemed real agitated. He said the two of you had a bit of a run-in and he wanted to explain a few things to you. He was all huffy, pacing and whatnot. He finally decided he was taking himself down to your apartment and saying what he needed to say. And well,”, he looked away and rubbed at the back of his neck, “he came back a couple hours later, all red-faced and outta breath. Went straight to bed and haven’t seen him since. I, uh, I figured you two had worked out your issues.” His tone made it clear he assumed the two of you had been up to no good.

Reality hit you like a freight train. You dropped what remained of your granola bar and pushed back from the table. Standing unsteadily on your feet, you swayed a bit and leaned forward to place both hands on the table. You heard Nat say your name, ask if you were alright, but her voice sounded like you were hearing it through water. Steve stood and placed a hand on your shoulder, you focused on the pressure to ground yourself.

“It wasn’t a dream.” you shut your eyes, shaking your head a bit to rattle up last night’s events. What you thought had been an exceptionally vivid dream had actually happened. You wrenched away from your friends; you had to get out of there, get back to your room, to familiarity, safety.

You rushed blindly down the hallways to get to your apartment. Slamming the door behind you, you stumbled over to your couch and pulled the blanket over your head. You were going to die here, right here on this couch. 

-

Turns out, hunger is a huge motivational force. It had been a couple days since your little episode in the kitchen. You had been surviving on your snack stash, but it had since run out and you were forced to make a supply run. It helped that it was very late and the chances of running into anyone were slim; your insomnia had returned full-force.

Bleary-eyed, you entered the kitchen and started pulling chips and pretzels from the shelves. When you turned to the fridge to pull a few bottles of water out, you noticed the TV was on, images moving across the screen without sound. You tip-toed to the couch and peered over, curious as to who was up so late. Your jaw dropped and anxiety flooded your veins when you saw Bucky sprawled out on his back across the cushions, head resting against his open hand, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Your eyes scanned down his sleeping form, taking him in shamelessly. His grey t-shirt stretched deliciously across his chest, rising and falling softly with each breath, his black sweatpants riding up slightly at the ankles, as if he'd been tossing and turning. His hair was tousled from restlessness, fanned against the pillow in an adorable halo. It looked so soft, like you could run your hands through it effortlessly. When you saw your hand actually reaching out on its own accord, you snatched it back in horror. The lack of sleep was turning you into a monster who preyed on sleeping hunks. Shaking yourself out of your stupor, you snapped your mouth shut and steeled yourself, quickly putting together an escape plan. If you were quiet enough, you could back away, slide out of the room like a shadow and he’d never know you were there.

“Can’t sleep, doll?” his low voice cut through the quietness like a knife. You actually shrieked, absolutely sure he had just shaved off ten years of your life.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes, what the hell are you doing here in the dark?” you managed to pant out, clutching at your heart, willing its rhythm to normalize. 

“Same as you, just can’t seem to get to sleep.” He rolled towards you, sitting up and crossing his arms against the back of the couch. “You wanna come sit down?” You looked up at him, immediately regretting it. The light from the television illuminated him from behind, giving him an ethereal glow. His adorably mussed hair suggested he had spent hours tossing and turning, desperately looking for a comfortable position. He gazed at you sleepily, the beginnings of dark circles dulling the blue of his eyes. The snarky comment you had in the chamber died in your throat. You nodded your head shakily instead.

You sank into the cushions opposite Bucky. He grabbed the blanket that had been kicked to the floor at some point, and spread it lightly over your legs. At this proximity you could smell his shampoo, the scent causing the memories of your last encounter to flood back. You stared at his profile, taking in the slope of his nose, the curve of his chin, the several days of stubble covering his cheeks. He turned to meet your gaze, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. 

The warmth he was exuding enveloped you like a cocoon, wrapping you in its tendrils and pulling you to the edge of oblivion. Your eyelids began to droop, and through your sleepy haze you could see Bucky’s head falling forward, only to snap up at the last second. It would’ve made you laugh, tease him a bit, if you weren’t so close unconsciousness.

“I think I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a second,” you whispered, unable to hold yourself up any longer. You leaned in and rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder, the slow, steady beat marching you towards sleep. 

“Sure thing sweetheart, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He was slurring his speech a bit as he wrapped his right arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him and guiding your head to his chest. You vaguely registered the weight of him resting his cheek on the top of your head. A light snore breaks through the silence, it’s the last thing you hear before you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-

Steve wakes up at six like he does every morning. Goes to the kitchen and makes his coffee, like he does every morning. He plans on frying a couple of eggs, maybe a strip or two of bacon, like he does every morning. He has a routine, he finds comfort in a predictable schedule, knowing what to expect. What he didn’t expect was the sight of you and Bucky on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms and dead to the world.

Chuckling to himself, Steve poured his coffee and moved to stand over the couch. He smiled behind his mug, looking down at the two of you. Bucky was on his back, mouth hung open and one arm curled securely around your back with the other draped over your waist. You were nestled against his chest, hand settled over his heart. 

Steve glanced up when Nat entered the room. She joined him at the couch, taking the two of you in with a smirk.

“They’re gonna be so pissed when they wake up.” Nat said simply, and all Steve could do was suppress his laughter and nod in agreement. You two would never live this down.


End file.
